


Where Is The Love, The Kind We Dream Of?

by hummingrightalong



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: End of a Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, tw: mentioned abortion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 04:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong
Summary: My version of the end of Nick & Luciana's relationship, as seen through Troy's eyes. Early S3





	Where Is The Love, The Kind We Dream Of?

So the verdict is that she's leaving as soon as she's healthy. We're giving her the proper supplies and tools for the trip of course, it's only fair. No matter what trouble we had between us.  
He's not leaving; and her man's not happy about it, but in my opinion it's better for the both of them...  
Now, if only I hadn't short-cutted through the infirm on my way through the compound, I'd have been able to avoid the current messy human predicament.  
I get along well with the surgeons- picked them all up along the way myself when the dead first began rising, they're used to me and I'm used to them so nobody notices me ducking and weaving through the crowded area. Nobody knows that I overheard the conversation between Miss Luciana and the doctors. Nobody else heard her say that she'd made a decision and no, she did not want it at all discussed with him before it was said and done with.   
I just kept moving. Didn't want to get sucked in and to be honest I did have a few things I would say on the matter if it were me and mine.  
There's an awful lot of me as far as body mass is concerned, and I've been warned by friends and family that I might be a little 'sneaky'...but sneaky ain't easy considering my size and the subject matter puttin me ever-so-slightly off my game. Thank god they're invested in the current conversation and not in all the noise I'm embarrassed to somehow be making upon retreat.  
What the hell is wrong with me today? I know my way around and I'm quick to react to any threat - especially a 'threat' that's impeccably disguised as a harmless shelf stocked full of medical supplies or a dangling curtain, lying in wait to be threaded around a bed.  
Fucking serves me right what happened after. Yeah I'm off my game today.  
I'd just been thinking, *if I can just get to my room and manage to avoid him, I'll be alone with my humiliation in peace and...*  
"Fucking A."  
"Yeah, sorry, nice to see you too." He weakly spat back, peeking around behind me, obviously having been trying to figure out how to sneak into the infirm without having to ask mine or Big Otto's permission. He's a risk in there after all...  
I'd love to be that guy that can say 'well it's her body', but it's his business too and despite our initial issues and my own opinions about what he and his girl had been up to with the narcotics, I was already dragging him into an unoccupied room further down the hall. I wish I cold have been in the mindset to appreciate the comical expresssion he made upon being discovered and as he was hauled off by a man barely larger than himself but alas...Business comes first. Always business, right Troy? All work no play, forever and always...  
She may not have wanted him to know but it's his RIGHT to know. In my opinion anyway...  
So I confessed. Told him no more than word for word what I'd overheard, managing to go without as much injection of my personal opinions as I can muster (that's fair, ain't it?).  
He'd started pacing wildly, kind of mumbling what I imagine were at least half 'kicking his own ass' and half whatever someone says about a loved one that's just hurt them when they know the aforementioned ain't within earshot. I don't have the same personal experience but I've been cursing my brother's name (as I've mentioned already) since his handling of that lovely moment between this kid's momma and I on that tarmac.  
I just kept begging the god I know doesn't exist, or at the least has long since forsaken me (at least I'm not alone in that, judging from the current zombie related event), that he wouldn't cry. Please don't let him be crying. Please don't do this, you little asshole. I'm no good at this shit.  
Oh fuck.  
"Oh, fuck you're not gonna cry are ya?"  
"N-no..." His eyes were red and wet already and for some goddamn reason he wouldn't look away. I don't know what I was thinking but I held my arms out and he just about fell into me. Like dead weight- fell into me. God fucking damn it. "I'm not good at this shit."   
Nick ('Nicholas Steven Clark', I remember) sniffed hard into my fatigues. His whole face was pressed hard into my chest and somehow I could feel his tears and snot soaked through my camo.  
"I can tell." He shook with what I guess was mostly laughter. Then he clung tight. He mumbled weakly. 'Why...why wouldn't she tell me at least...it's her body I know but...we could do this...I could do this..."  
"Yeah. Yeah. I think you could."  
"You don't mean that." He kind of laughed again. But knowing our history I could see why he'd feel that way.  
"Nah. For what it's worth I think you could. You made a choice to stay here. I also know you made a choice to clean up your act and for your kind that's half the battle, ain't it."  
He stilled. Hard. Not just like he was playing 'tree'. Like he was trying his hardest to will himself into someone or something else entirely.  
"Thanks. But since you said..." He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a baggie out powder. I know where he got that too but another time another place for that talk. We had strictly forbidden the dealing or use of the substances they'd been dealing and using back there. "Take this. Take this before I do."  
Oh.  
"See?" He was still clinging tightly to me when I tucked it safely away and he (pleasant surprise) never tried to steathily reach for it before we pulled apart (I have seen/heard that Nick is an accomplished pick-pocket amongst his other criminal pursuits).  
"Feel better?"  
"Yeah...thanks."  
"It's alright if you don't. Just try and remind yourself that maybe this is some kinda sign."  
"That maybe I should start over."  
"Yes. Here. With your family." I don't know yet if that's entirely true, but I hope to the people that I owe my last shreds of decency to, that for everyone's sake it is.  
I was so thrilled to find out an entire family had made it this far. I sincerely hope I wasn't being too optimistic.


End file.
